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We are the soul of a newspaper. Not just any newspaper. We are the soul of the Toronto Sun from back in the day when it was the tabloid everyone in Toronto talked about. We are the people who helped make it happen. Sadly, most of us are long gone from the Sun. Many are now deceased. But when we were all a part of the Sun, as it was, it was a vibrant, kick ass paper that captured the impossible dream.

Sunday, 29 December 2013

Thane Burnett, Sun Media writer extraordinaire, has left the building after 26 years, most of them spent in the bowels of 333.

One fewer storyteller from the glory years that earned the Toronto Sun a reputation for gifted storytellers: Mark Bonokoski, Jerry Gladman, Peter Worthington, Christie Blatchford, John Downing and other prose masters.

It seems being promoted to the national desk is a kiss of death.

This is globe-trotting writer's farewell:

I can see the bartender tapping his watch.

So I guess it's time I gathered up my coat and headed out.

But before I go, and you've been great to sit and listen to my stories, I'd like to pass along a few parting words.

Not any great wisdom. More like a period at the end of a last sentence.

After 26 years of telling tales for Sun Media, another four with a
Halifax paper, I am no longer their reporter. Though I guess I still
qualify as a journalist.

Years ago, I stood with a group to meet Prince Charles. He was
introduced to our motley band with someone explaining: "Your highness,
these are a few local reporters."

"What's the difference between a journalist and a reporter?" the prince asked.

A veteran among us chimed in: "A reporter is a journalist who has a job."

So I am no longer a reporter or 'Sun Scribe' — the scrappy moniker
used by my peers in the newsroom since 1971. And, because of the
complicated marketplace of the business, I may never be a newsman again.

Beyond being a husband and dad and, on better days, a good man, I've
always seen myself as a news writer. And my stories have always been for
you — until now.

I see you looking at me with a certain unease. Don't.

These years have flown by in endless rounds of adventures. If you had
told me at 20 years old how I would spend the next three decades, I
would have paid to live through it.

Did I tell you once, while at the Calgary Sun, a Blackfoot elder
guided me through a vision-quest involving me going without food and
water, and being left in the wilderness for four days? Or the time I
was, after I joined the Toronto Sun, smuggled into a South American
prison? That a Canadian soldier dove in front of me to protect me from
incoming fire in Afghanistan?

Oh, ya, I guess I did tell you.

Wait, what about how I felt in earthquake-ravaged China, or on the
island of Montserrat during a volcano that melted my boots, or in remote
India where I followed a trail of AIDS patients, or Oklahoma City on
the day of the bombing or inside Ground Zero's 'frozen zone' on 9/11 or
finding Biddy Baby, a tough Louisiana swamp-man whose family stubbornly
rode out hurricanes Katrina and Rita inside a bandit's camp?

You're right. I told you them all, right here.

I just really appreciate the time you gave me.

And I've always been aware they were never my stories. I just carried them to you.

I know there are plenty of louder voices — those demanding you feel
outrage about this or screaming the other guy shouldn't be allowed to
believe that.

But behind these obnoxious characters, there are as many as 13,000
journalists working in Canada — many quietly knocking on doors or
jumping on planes so you'll know the full truth of a story.

Is the industry dying? No, though it is going through serious growing pains that many other trades have known.

In fact, there are apparently — despite corporate shakeups — as many journalists in this country as a decade ago.

How do I know? A journalist dug into it and told me so.

Showmen like Rush Limbaugh like to routinely call out the flaws of
'mainstream journalism'. But Limbaugh, and those like him, simply feed
off of the work done by reporters who daily venture out to ask questions
and bring you back answers.

Yes, I have worries about journalism. We all do. But I believe in
storytelling and the need to be informed when there are sirens blaring
on the street outside, or when a government is throwing its citizens in
prison a half world away.

Better journalists than me have died believing the same thing.

If I do decide to replace my pen with a hammer or rake, to give up
what I've been doing for so long now, I'll still wander in here each day
-- now to listen rather than tell.

I just thought it was important, if these are the last words I write
for a newspaper, that you know having you sit with me to hear my many
stories has been a great honour.

And with one hand on the door latch and the other over my heart, be
sure I always tried my very best, knowing you were waiting right here.

After hearing about the B.S. with Ezra and Coren with regards to how they spun the death of George Smitherman's husband this week, I'm even more convinced there's a sickness that infects the decision-makers in this company.How they could continue to employ poisonous trolls such as those two, while walking some talented individuals such as Thane to the door, astounds me.

The Toronto Sun Family: 1971 - 2018

Current and former Sun Media employees, this blog is for you. We'd like to hear your feelings about the Sun, pro or con, your experiences and if no longer with Sun Media, what you are doing today. There is no "I" in Toronto Sun Family. Just "we."